Rogue's Justice
by xoJaymexo
Summary: When a child-killer gets away with it, Beka calls in an antiquated form of judgement called the Rogue's Justice--on the condition that she owe Rosto a favor. What's the favor? And will Rosto live long enough to call it in?
1. Chapter 1

It was a quiet night at the Dancing Dove. The Court of the Rogue had gone home, and the clock had just struck one of the morning. Rosto the Piper, the current Rogue king, paced the main room of the inn restlessly, running his hands through his long, blonde hair until it stood up on end.

Aniki and Kora sat on a couch facing him, with their lovers, Phelan and Ersken, standing beside it. Aniki was sharpening her dagger, and Kora was trying—disastrously—to knit gloves. Both were keeping their hands busy, but constantly glanced up at Rosto every few seconds, as though reassuring themselves that he was still there, that he hadn't gone raring off all over Corus to find their missing Dog.

Achoo had come back, and Pounce had come back, but Beka hadn't. It was over two hours after the end of her watch, and she still hadn't come back. Ersken had come home a little early, even, had told them all that the Evening Watch was getting called in and sent home, that something had happened.

That had set Rosto off. He had sent all of his spies out, and told the rest of his Court to get home, that he would see them tomorrow.

That had been nearly three hours ago, and he hadn't stopped pacing since. Scenarios raced through his head, each worse than the last.

_Beka, lying broken in the gutters of the Lower City…Beka struggling against a tall man covered in black…Beka with another man, moaning as he kissed down her neck the way Rosto wanted to…_

He wasn't sure what scared him more: Beka dying or Beka with another man. He knew what he would say aloud, if anyone asked him what he was thinking.

"_Oh, you know, just wondering when my spies will come back, they've been gone a while…no, I'm not worried about Beka. Why should I be? She's a Dog, she can take care of herself."_

Wrong.

Rosto was worried beyond belief about her. Beka was punctuality personified. She never was late, not if she could help it.

And so he paced, knowing full well that here was nothing he could do except that, at least until his informants came back, and told him what was going on. Then, and only then, he could _do_ something.

Luckily for all of the Lower City Dogs, Beka chose that moment to walk in, her eyes wide and unseeing. Rosto knew that look. He saw it every day when some child came in, telling him about the father who had killed their mother in front of them. He saw it on Aniki's face when she came out of a room after talking to a woman in her Court who had seen her child killed.

He knew that look. That was the look of someone who had seen death, had seen it come to someone who didn't deserve it. It was the look of a human being who had seen another killed in front of their eyes, despite their best efforts to prevent it. It was the same look that had been on his face after he had watched his mother be killed by his father.

At that moment, Rosto wanted nothing more than to go to Beka and hug her, tell her it would all be okay in the end. He wanted to press his lips to her temple and run his hands through her not-quite-brown-not-quite-blonde hair, and look her in the eyes and say that everything was going to be okay. To see her look back at him, and have her break down, because that was what she needed. It was what he had needed, and he knew that it was what she needed to do. She needed to let go of whatever happened.

But he didn't. Beka's not caring for him like that was one of the reasons (they weren't excuses, of course) that he didn't, but more it was the fact that she was in shock. Beka in shock was a scary thing, because that was when she didn't care anymore, wasn't painfully shy, and had no problem speaking whatever was on her mind. That was when people got hurt.

So, he let her go to the window and look out it, not saying a word. He silenced the other's—Aniki, Kora, and Phelan, that is, because Ersken never listened to him anyway—with a glance, and waited for her to talk.

It wasn't her that spoke first, though. It was Ersken. Good, friendly, Ersken, who had the tact of a thousand diplomats, who looked up to Beka as though she was a god, who had not a clue when to shut-up when it came to her, who didn't listen to Rosto's glares. Stupid Ersken. "Beka, it wasn't your fault."

That caught Rosto's attention, seeing as he still didn't know what exactly had caused Beka to look like someone had killed her cat.

She didn't move, though everyone in the room did. Aniki put down the knife that she had sharpened thin enough to be useless, Kora threw aside the lump that her knitting needles had mangled beyond any recognizable shape, and Phelan stiffened, barely, but enough so that Rosto could see it.

"It wasn't your fault, Beka," Ersken tried again. "There was nothing you could do."

That got her. She turned around, and her eyes were no longer dead. They were very much alive, and very much on fire. "Couldn't do anything?" She demanded, laughing bitterly. Rosto felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Beka shouldn't laugh like that. Her laugh was happy, and joyful, not bitter and unfeeling and mocking. It wasn't Beka's laugh.

Behind him he felt, rather than saw, Aniki exchange a glance with Kora, just as unsettled by the horrible _wrongness_ in Beka's laugh as he was. Phelan's eyes widened, his brain knowing what his ears were telling him. If something didn't change, and soon, Beka would break.

Rosto knew that. He knew that if they couldn't get through to her, couldn't make her see the light, Beka would fall into the darkness that consumed people daily, the darkness that made people do things that in their previous life they wouldn't have ever dreamed of doing, just to try to fill up that emptiness that resided inside of them all the time, just to bring some light into the dark that was their life. He didn't want that for his Beka.

_His _Beka. When had he stopped thinking of her as her own mot, as someone who could take care of herself and anyone else, and started thinking of her as his? As someone who needed to be protected, needed to know that someone was there for her, always? He had kept his gob shut, hadn't told her what she meant to him. He knew very well that she wouldn't be able to be true to him, that she would always be struggling with herself, with the promise she had made to her Ma, and the unspoken vow she had made to herself to always uphold the law.

He also knew, that one day, she would be able to get past that, and realize that Rosto would do anything for her, and that he truly loved her, would _never _raise a hand to her. One day, she would realize that he wouldn't put her in a situation where she might need to take him in, where she might need to hobble him. He wouldn't do that to her.

"What happened?" Aniki's soft voice cut through Beka's fog that surrounded her mind and thoughts, causing her to look up sharply.

Rosto suppressed the gasp that came when he saw Beka's face. She had red rimmed eyes, and her nose was swollen, in the way you get when you have cried so hard, you have no more tears left.

"Thr-three children. Murdered by their father. I-I wasn't fast enough to stop the sarden cove! He-he killed them, beat them to death. I held the littlest one as she died…she thought to the last her 'daddy' would stop and would save her. She died calling out for him." Beka broke off, shuddering.

This time, Rosto spoke up. "When was this?"

She looked at him, startled. "Three days ago," she told him, tears silently dripping down her face. "But we held Harlon Franko's trial today at the end of our Watch. We didn't want any people watching." She hesitated, holding something back.

"What happened then?" He asked her. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading, his demanding. Rosto wasn't going to let her keep this bottled up inside her. That was the first thing that happened when someone fell down that slippery path.

"They had no hard evidence. The girls and boy died before I could bring them in, and he had stopped beating them shortly before I arrived. When I got there, he was standing by the wall, looking at the Olurun. They let him go."

Aniki got up, then, and moved to hug Beka, but she moved away. "Don't." She said, her voice strangled. "If I had gotten there, just a little bit sooner…he would have hung on Executioner's Hill. If I had some more evidence, if those children just had hung on a little longer, he would have been tortured for killing his children. And the worst part?" She looked straight at Rosto when she said it. "The worst part was the smile on his face as he walked out, free as a bird." The words were spoken deliberately, as though she wanted Rosto to pick up on something.

"What do you want me to do, Beka?" Rosto asked, looking at her, his dark eyes intent on her face.

"Rogue's Justice." She stated, as though it were as simple as that.

Phelan whistled through his teeth, high and long. "Do you know what you're asking there, Beka?" He asked her seriously. Rosto couldn't move, he was frozen in the same spot as he was before she asked him.

He would do anything for her—anything but _that_.

Rogue's Justice hadn't been called in years, but that didn't stop everyone from knowing about it. They even had it in Scanra, for Mithros' sake! It was a deadly thing, and couldn't be taken back once it was accepted. The Rogue had the choice—by law, no less, in Corus—to take matters into their own hands. To judge the accused by the Rogue's court, and if they are guilty, it is the King of the Rogue's choice to kill them. No one can prosecute them for doing it, for killing someone, once the agreement has been accepted. Most of the time, it was rejected, because of one little thing.

If the Rogue decided the wrong thing, he was killed instead.

She nodded her head. "Yes," she said firmly, "I do. But I have the evidence. Why did you think it took me so long to get back to the Inn tonight? The trial was at the beginning of the Watch, and I had the rest of it off. I took the opportunity to find the evidence."

Rosto was stunned. "How?" He asked her.

"I found her ghost, the little girls' ghost. She told me the truth." Her eyes dared him to ask her about how he had found the gixie's ghost. Wisely, he let it be.

"So, if I call a Rogue's Justice Court, I can be assured that the god of Law and War won't strike me where I stand? I have your word?"

Beka's eyes looked straight at him. "Rosto, you have my word, and my promise to you that if you do this for me, I will grant you a favor."

His dark eyes widened. She really must hate the guy, to promise him that. He would do anything for Beka, and it seemed that the list of things he wouldn't do was now one less. "I accept the proposal of Rogue Justice to Harlo Franko, tomorrow at High Noon in the Dancing Dove. Aniki, if you would see to it that the necessary people are there?" With that, he turned and walked away, up to his room, where he stood there, thinking.

**Ugh. Rosto thinks way too much. This **was** going to be a one-shot, but it kind of evolved…let me know what you think. Feedback is always appreciated. 2,030 words. A new record for me!  
Jayme  
PS: Just a funny thought… Harlo, when I spell-checked it, came up with the alternative of 'harlot'. That made me laugh. :D **


	2. Chapter 2

**Previously:  
**_His dark eyes widened. She really must hate the guy, to promise him that. He would do anything for Beka, and it seemed that the list of things he wouldn't do was now one less. "I accept the proposal of Rogue Justice to Harlo Franko, tomorrow at High Noon in the Dancing Dove. Aniki, if you would see to it that the necessary people are there." _

It was noon in the city, and in the Dancing Dove the tension was running high. Harlo Franko was in the middle of the room, on an unadorned wooden chair. Rosto the Piper, the King of the Rogues, was behind the chair thirty feet in front of Franko, a chair that was elaborate, and looked comfortable.

Harlo Franko was nervous.

The call for Rogue's Justice had gone out at six of the clock that morning, and Franko had been dragged into the court room one short hour later. His maid had been the one to tell him, for the Black God's sake!

Although he was telling everyone that it was ridiculous, that the pretty-boy Scanran would get what was coming to him if he chose to kill him, he knew the truth.

He was guilty.

He hadn't meant to beat his children, of course. He had just had a few drinks of ale, and they had said something, something he couldn't even remember now, and Mithros! He still remembered how his little girl, his baby Cass looked at him as he beat her, pleading with him.

He shook his head. He didn't want to go down in history as the cove for which the Rogue chose the Rogue's Justice and got it right for once.

No, what he really wanted to know was whose idea it was to exercise the outdated practice. He had been thinking about it for the past five hours, and he was pretty sure he knew who it was.

He rotated his head slightly, and found her, standing next to the Rogue King, whispering to him nervously.

Beka Cooper. Terrier. Bloodhound. Dog. And, in his mind, a good for nothing slut.

He knew that he wasn't going to make it out of this Court alive, but he would be damned if he was going to go down without her too.

~*~

It was finally time. Time to avenge those poor children, but most of all, time to come to peace with her job. Being a Dog was all that she had ever wanted, but it was hard, sometimes, to remember that being a Dog wasn't always easy. Sometimes you had to watch as a child that could have saved their world died; sometimes you had to help dear friends make a horrible decision; sometimes you had to ask a friend that you were slowly falling in love with, day by slow day, to choose between your friendship and potentially losing his life.

It was days like this, though, that Beka Cooper was glad she was a Dog. Finally, _finally_, that monster, Harlo Franko, was getting his comeuppance. It had been hard enough watching that little girl die in her arms, but to see the man she had looked up to ever since she was eight, Lord Gershom, let him go, her life had gotten unbearably hard.

So she had called in something, something that she really should never have dredged up from history, and definitely should never have asked Rosto to do. She hadn't really thought he would do it, hadn't thought he would agree, had made up a plan. She would have killed Franko, had Rosto said no.

Sometime in the last few hours, she had realized that Rosto had _known_ she would kill him, and had taken that responsibility away from her. He had known what it would do to her, to kill someone, even someone as vile and evil as Franko. He had saved her, again.

Maybe that was why she had promised him a favor in return for him doing so. It meant a lot to her, really, that he was risking his life—if he made the wrong decision—in exchange for her promise that he was guilty, and a favor. Maybe her promising a favor had been her way of insuring that he was coming back. It wasn't like it was unrisky. If anything, the wrong move would result in death. Rosto had to know that, Beka knew they had it in Scanra, yet he had said yes just on her assurance that Franko was guilty.

"Beka?" Asked the man standing protectively next to her. He always stood like that, she realized, always stood as though he was protecting her from something. Had it been any other man, she knew she would have been angry, furious even, for them suggesting that she could not take care of herself. Since it was Rosto, though, she didn't mind.

"Yes?" She asked back, her low voice matching his.

"If I had said no," he paused, considering his request very carefully. "To your request, what would you have done?"

She looked at him, debating whether or not to tell him. She had a feeling he knew already, and was just asking to confirm. "I'll tell you after that monster dies." She told him, patting his arm.

"What if I don't make it through?" Rosto asked her, allowing weakness to seep into his voice. "What if you can't tell me?"

The softness, the _fear_, in his voice was what prompted her to do it. She would swear, afterwards, that she hadn't planned it, that it had just _happened_. They would just take a look at the foolish smile on her face, and on Rosto's, and ignore her assurances.

She kissed him, hard and fast, then released him and pushed him towards his throne. "Go get him, Rosto. Make him wish he had never raised a hand to those poor babes." Her voice was low and husky, and sent shivers down his spine, but he went, barely resisting the temptation to grab her and kiss her again, until she felt as though her knees were gone.

Now is not the time, he reminded himself, as he sat in his chair, facing Franko. A deep hatred welled up in him as he looked at the man. Rosto had no deep love for slavers, but it was child killers that made his blood boil.

"Speak your piece, accused," he said his voice deep and commanding.

Franko gulped; Rosto could see it from his throne, then began. "I don't know what you are accusing me of…" one of Rosto's rushers glared at him, and he hastily added on, "Your Majesty."

"Child killing." Rosto said bluntly, eliciting gasps from the audience. Everyone knew there were child-killers out there, and that they were given the worst punishment, just under that of traitors to the kingdom, but no one was expecting it to be put so baldly.

"I-I would never kill my babies! I am telling the truth!" The man blustered, but it was clear that the shock of having the King of the Rogue say it had gotten to him. The whole Court was staring at him, distaste in their eyes. No one liked a child-killer. Franko knew that, assuming the King ruled he had not done it—which was looking more and more unlikely by the minute—he would not walk out of here and live to see another day.

"Good." Rosto said, his dark eyes hard. "Then you will not object to us using a mage Truth on you." Franko's eyes opened wide, but he agreed. How could he not? The King had outmaneuvered him, it would look as though he were lying, should he refuse. "Kora, if you will?"

A younger mot bounded forward, her smile happy, but her eyes hard. "Of course, Majesty." She told him, then turned to Franko. "This might hurt a little." She said to him, the twinkle in her eye assuring him that even if it were not supposed to hurt, she would make sure that it would hurt, and hurt so that he screamed.

But he refused to scream, even when the Truth spell took hold over his mind, flattening his impulses to lie to save himself, even when it seemed to kill him, he kept his mouth tightly shut.

It was worth it, too, to see the tiniest glimmer of respect in the Rogue's King's eyes. That glimmer, however, went away when Franko opened his mouth and began to speak.

"They wouldn't stop asking for food." His voice was dry, monotonous, uncaring. Rosto knew that your voice didn't have to sound like that under a Truth spell, knew that Kora had done it like that a purpose, so that it was easier for him to make the decision, and it was. It was easier to look at him in disgust, hearing his cold, callous voice speak of the reason why he had killed his three children. _They had asked for food. _Rosto knew, then, that no matter what the man said next, he would not make it out of here alive.

"They just kept asking, and asking, and I got tired of it. I hit him, my oldest, my Billos. He flew into the wall. Then Jammie came, and she held onto me, so I batted her away from me. Cass, too." He continued on, speaking in the same dry, callous voice, but Rosto tuned him out. He was going to die, and Rosto knew that Franko knew that, could see it in his eyes, could see his sweat beading on his brow. Harlo Franko was going to die, and Rosto would take great pleasure in making it happen.

When he finally stopped speaking, Rosto stood up. "By the order of the King of the Rogue of Corus," he proclaimed, and the Court stopped whispering among themselves, and listened to hear what their King had to say. "I proclaim you…" The court held their breath, but Rosto's eyes sought out only Beka. She was staring straight at him, and it seemed that she was giving him permission. "Guilty on three accounts of child-killing. Your sentence is death."

He walked towards him. "The person who will carry out the sentence is what you want to know, isn't it, you evil monster? It won't be me." Franko seemed to exhale in disbelief. "It will be anybody who wishes." Rosto's lips curled up in a smile. "One knife per person, everyone." He called out, then sat back down on his throne, relaxing.

"Can I borrow a knife?" A small voice asked next to him, and he started, before turning and seeing Beka. He shrugged, then handed her one.

"I'll want it back," he warned. She smirked.

"Bloodstains and all?" His eyes widened. She actually meant to hurt him. Without waiting for a response, she set off to join the queue. By the time she reached him, Franko resembled a pincushion, but was still, miraculously, alive.

When the crowd saw that Beka Cooper, their Terrier, their Dog, was standing about him with a knife, all the noise stopped.

She raised her arm above him, the dagger held tightly. "This," she said, her face still, like a mountain lake, "is for Cass, who trusted you until the last breath she struggled to take, you monster." Then she plunged it downward, cutting his bonds.

"You don't deserve to die sitting up, like a man. You deserve to die bleeding to death on the floor, like the Rat that you are." Her voice was cold venom as she pushed Harlo Franko onto the cold floor, and stood there, watching him die, and Rosto came up behind her and put his arm around her shoulders, and watched with her.

**A/N: Okay, the final installment will be up shortly, I promise. This one was a little shorter than the others, but it needed to end there. I hope you enjoyed it, and feedback is always appreciated.  
BTW, should I have made this M?  
xoxo Jayme**


	3. Chapter 3

**Previously:  
**_"You don't deserve to die sitting up, like a man. You deserve to die bleeding to death on the floor, like the Rat that you are." Her voice was cold venom as she pushed Harlo Franko onto the cold floor, and stood there, watching him die, and Rosto came up behind her and put his arm around her shoulders, and watched with her._

That night, Beka didn't sleep well. She kept seeing Franko fall down on the ground, kept hearing her cold as ice voice, kept seeing the eyes that had stared up at her, at first, then down again when they didn't see the mercy they expected in a Dog.

Eventually, she gave up trying. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and padded down the stairs to the fire, which were just embers now. Pounce followed her downstairs, his black tail a flag waving behind him when he jumped up on Beka's her lap. It surprised her. Pounce _never_ showed affection. He was a Constellation, not a lap cat, as he had told her many, many times.

_Stop feeling sorry for yourself_, he told her briskly. _You did what was right and just under Rogue's Justice, and no one thinks any less of you for it. To the contrary, actually, seeing as I saw quite a number of admiring looks coming your way towards the end._

"I didn't even know you were there," Beka said, astonished. Pounce had disappeared a few hours before the Judging, and she hadn't known he was gone.

_Of course I was, silly girl_, Pounce said, rubbing his head against her knee. _Why would I miss watching your Rosto kick some cove's bum for you?_

Beka blushed, glad that Pounce couldn't see it in the firelight. And aren't cats colorblind, anyway? "He isn't _my_ Rosto, Pounce!" She hissed at him.

"Well, isn't that good to know?" An amused voice said from behind her.

"Oh!" A startled gasp escaped from her lips, and she turned around to see Rosto the Piper coming down the stairs with a slight grin on his face. "Rosto, I-you-you scared me!" She told him, shaking herself a little to get over the shock of seeing him without a shirt. _He does have a nice chest_, she couldn't stop herself from thinking. "What are you doing down here?" She winced internally at how that sounded.

"Sorry, but I heard you, and I wanted to know if you were okay…it looks like you are, so I'll just head up again."

For some reason, Beka felt a pang when he said he would leave. "No, that's okay," she told him. "I just, I couldn't sleep."

He nodded sympathetically. "Yeah…me either." Rosto came and sat next to her, both of them staring into the fire.

After a long pause, Rosto finally spoke again. "So, are you okay, Beka?" He asked her, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye.

"I-Yeah," she said. "Or, I guess I will be."

He smiled at her. "Yeah," he said, "I guess you will."

There was another silence, but it wasn't awkward or tangible, or anything like that. It was just _there_. Beka hadn't really known that Rosto could be silent, could be still. He always seemed to be in motion, even when he was still. Now, though, now he wasn't moving, was just staring into the fire, seemingly reflecting on something.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then closed it again. He did this twice more, before Beka got tired of it. "Just spit it out, Rosto," she told him. "I'm a big girl. I can take it."

He laughed lowly, and the sound sent tingles up her spine. "I know you are," he told her seriously, "but sometimes I wonder if _I_ can take it."

She frowned. "I don't understand what you mean," Beka admitted to him. "But whatever it is, how about you just get to the point, you looby?"

Rolling his eyes, Rosto got to the point. "I was wondering exactly how far this favor of yours goes, Beka."

Her eyes widened. Whatever she had been expecting, it had not been that. She got over her surprise quickly, however, because with Rosto she was learning that you really could not predict him. "However far you want it to go, Rosto." She told him gently but firmly. "What you did for me was something huge, that you didn't need to do, and I will do whatever you deem fit to pay you back."

He was still watching her. "So, if I asked you to quit the Dogs and join my Court as my Lady, you would do so?"

She blanched, her face whitening, before steeling herself, and nodding. "I would. I am a Cooper, and Cooper's do not break their word. However…I do not think I would be happy, in your court."

"But as my Lady?" Rosto asked shrewdly.

"Well," she said shyly, looking up at him through her lashes. "I suppose that I would just have to wait and see."

"I see." He said dryly. "Well, in that case, what I want from the favor owed, is for you to do whatever it takes to be true to yourself. Goodnight, Beka." He started walking away, when he heard her call him.

"Rosto?" She called.

"Yes, Beka?" He asked her, his back still to her.

"Had you not agreed…" her voice trailed off, and he remembered asking her what she would do if he had not agreed to the Rogue's Justice. "Had you not said yes, I would have killed him myself. I thank you, Rosto, for saving me from what I would have done."

With that, she swept past him, turning only once when she was at the head of the stairs, and looking down at where he stood, frozen, with a twinkle in her eye. "Oh, and, Rosto? Your case is not so hopeless as it may seem. Goodnight, Rosto." And she turned and went the rest of the way up the stairs. He could do nothing more than gape.

**A/N: Well, that is the end, unless I am SERIOUSLY inspired to write anymore. Don't get your hopes up, though. I wrote it all in one day! I am truly proud of myself. This installment was shorter than the others, but it didn't need to be long. :D I hope they all flowed and fit together, and if not, please let me know why they didn't. I recently received a very rude review from someone who did not leave a signature, and I hope that, should you feel the need to tell me that my ending was awful and that you could do it better, you leave your name so that I can get back to you.  
Feedback is always appreciated. :D  
xoxo Jayme**


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